


All Glittering Gold

by PumpkinDoodles



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: All Your Villains Be Pirates, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Arranged Marriage, F/M, I'm Making Up Stuff in the Early Eighteenth Century
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2019-11-06 06:23:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17934479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Traveling to Havana in 1713 to meet Jane and her future husband, Ian Boothby, Darcy Lewis has an unfortunate run-in with a pirate ship: The Hydra.





	1. An Easy Voyage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lordwhatfoolsthismortalsbe](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lordwhatfoolsthismortalsbe).



> AU Arranged Marriage Prompt from Tumblr. I own nothing! And I'm mostly making up the history for funsies.

_My heart is pierced by Cupid_  
_I disdain all glittering gold_  
_There is nothing can console me_  
_But my jolly sailor bold_

_-My Jolly Sailor Bold, English folk song_

_(first published c. 1850, may be older)_

 

 **1713** **  
**

The ship was going to be boarded, Darcy realized, the when the impact of one of the cannons sent the ship rocking. Overrun by pirates. A second volley of firing hit them again and she slid across the floor, scrambling for purchase on the wood. Sewn into her long skirts, a few of Jane’s Asgardian implements jangled. Would they ransom her as a hostage? Sink the ship? If they took hostages, but left the ship, she might be safer on board. The gold in her skirt was priceless--and irreplaceable. The crown prince of Asgard had fallen from the sky into their tiny town, woo’d Jane, and left behind these items as an unspoken promise. He would return for Jane.

 

Two long years had elapsed. They waited for Thor and returned to New York when Jane’s politics grew too radical for planter Virginia. Jane became a well-known scientific lady and her speaking acumen moved them through Eastern society. Now Jane had accepted a job as a headmistress of a girls’ school in Cuba and gone to verify the details were as advertised, leaving her treasures with Darcy on the mainland. She had written to say it was safe for Darcy to follow, that everything was properly organized, and that Havana was an impressive city, “larger than either Boston or New York.” She’d also said that Darcy’s betrothed, Ian Boothby, was as advertised as well: a tall, dashing English-born merchant who had written first to Jane to praise her scientific knowledge and convince her to travel south despite her misgivings, then entered into a correspondence of a more romantic nature with Darcy. She was eager to meet her future husband. Jane had vouched for his handsomeness and sweetness of temper, and there was no stricter judge of character than Jane. It was supposed to be a brief sail to the island, two or three days in good weather. Darcy’s only moment of disquiet had been the night before her voyage. The matron at her Florida inn had warned Darcy of the criminality in Nassau: “It is a Republic of Pirates now, Miss. Be wary when you sail, a single lady without escort.” Darcy had experienced a pang of regret that she had not asked Ian to meet her, so they could sail to Havana as a pair. A shipboard trip would seem more romantic together.

 

But her Cuba-born captain had merely scoffed when she’d asked about it on the _Puente Antiguo._  “Miss Lewis,” he said contemptuously, “we are no prize for a crew of _rufianes._ This is a simple boat. We ferry passengers between Florida and Cuba. We carry nothing of all that much value. These English pirates want huge ships. Ships with sugar, gold, and slaves. They will not bother with us.”

 

Last Darcy had seen him, he’d yelled for the frantic passengers to go below as he tried to staunch a wound from a fragment of destroyed plank that was embedded in his shoulder.

 

With the sound of new footsteps heavy above her, Darcy looked around. There was a large, shabby trunk in the room. Desperate, Darcy climbed in and hid. The wait seemed terribly long and frightening. She lay there for awhile, listening carefully. Then she heard voices descending into the  room where she was hidden. “Take anything of value and move it to the _Hydra_ ,” a roughly accented voice said in English. Abruptly, Darcy felt her trunk begin to slide across the floor. When she was lifted and carried away, Darcy froze with terror inside the trunk, holding her skirts still to hide their jangling. She must be being carried to the deck above. Perhaps they would decide the trunk was too shabby and leave it behind?  
  
“Let me see my share, Calico Jack,” a wry voice said suddenly.

“You know how I feel when you call me that. I’m no dandy like Rackham,” a second man said, sounding affronted.

“Sure you aren’t. Bring the trunk to my quarters,” the first voice said.

 

Oh no, Darcy thought. Oh, no. The trunk seemed to sway precipitously as it was moved from the _Puente Antiguo_ to another vessel. She was sat down with a _thump_ and listened as the footsteps moved away. Could she escape? Jump into the water? Would her skirts and the implements be too heavy? Darcy pushed at the trunk. The lid didn’t open. The bastard pirates had latched it. She was trapped.

 

The time seemed endless. She waited inside, veering between fear and anger. Finding a walking stick inside the trunk, she’d used it to prod at the lid, to no avail. Darcy wanted to scream from tension. Then she heard footsteps. Lighter than before, they walked towards her. She froze, not wanting her implements to jangle. But-but weren’t pirates a superstitious, ill-educated lot? Maybe she could frighten them away? Cupping her hands over her mouth, Darcy moaned ominously. She had practiced it at Abigail Ketchum’s, when she had helped the children make crowns out of dried flowers and secretly told ghost tales while Jane discussed the value of the female mind in scientific endeavors to a room of Quakers and abolitionists. To her surprise, the footsteps stopped. Was it working?

 

The lid was flung open and Darcy swung with her walking stick, screeching like a banshee. Her blow was forcefully paused in mid-air. “What have we here?” the man leaning over her said. “A stowaway?” Darcy’s horrified gaze was focused on the tattooed, sturdy forearm gripping the walking stick. She moved her eyes up slowly, where they settled on an angular, tanned face shadowed with stubble. Though a smirk played on his mouth, those olive eyes were dangerous.

 

This was no gentleman. This was a pirate.

 

***

 

The injured crew had been left aboard the _Puente Antiguo._ The ship’s listing hull attracted the attention of a passing English naval ship. “Who pirated you?” the man who stepped aboard asked of the ship’s carpenter, bruised and bleeding. He looked down with one eye. The carpenter quailed at the sight of him.

“It was the _Hydra,_ Vice Admiral Fury,” the man coughed out, holding a piece of cloth to his stab wound.

“Crossbones and Rollins,” Fury mused. “Tell your captain we will tow him to Havana and have the _Black Widow_ pursue the _Hydra."_

“We can’t, sir. The captain’s dead,” one man told him, gesturing to a body on the deck.

“Well, tell the mate he’s got a promotion,” Fury said, moving back onto the _Triskelion._ Piracy was the common enemy of the major powers now that the there was a virtual pirate state in the Caribbean. The Spanish and English navies were working in concert to patrol the trade routes and pursue pirates, although Fury’s equivalent on the Spanish side, Jasper Sitwell, did enjoy pointing out that the _Hydra_ had once been an English ship. Until Rumlow and Rollins had led a mutiny against Alexander Pierce and murdered him. Now they were ransoming passengers on small cargo ships, a deviation from pirate norm that left even Fury perplexed. No one could figure out how they were retrieving the ransoms left at specific locations, but the hostages would be left behind and the gold disappear even with soldiers and sailors watching. All the hostages would say is that they had been carried by a rigger--and that he was very fast.

 

***

 

“What are you called, Stowaway?” the pirate asked, prying the stick from her hands. “Darcy Lewis?”

“How do you know my name?” Darcy said, shocked. He smiled slowly and then pulled her to her feet. She stumbled slightly--her legs had gone numb in the trunk--and had to catch herself against him. He was solidly muscular.

“The captain of the _Puente Antiguo_ keeps good records of all his passengers and descriptions. You were the only one not accounted for--Darcy Lewis, a single woman traveling to Havana to be married to a well-to-do young merchant. Which suits me,” he said, steadying her. “Tell me, how much does young Boothby have in a year?”

“I do not know that,” Darcy said, assuming it was about ransoming her. “He is a gentleman of refinement and taste, unlike you, whoever you are---” she began.

“Crossbones,” he said. “My name is Crossbones.” He said it as if he expected her to be impressed.

“No one’s name is Crossbones,” she said. “It is a ridiculous moniker.” He laughed.

“It has frightened men far larger than you, little Stowaway,” he said.

“I am not afraid of you,” Darcy lied. He needed to keep her alive to ransom, didn’t he?

“Good,” he said. “I would not wish my wife to be afraid of me.”

“What?” Darcy said, certain she had misheard. She almost lost her balance again.

“We will be married in Nassau or sooner, if possible.”

 

***

 

“Your friend will be returned to you,” Maria Hill, the school’s primary patroness, assured an alarmed Jane Foster, when the _Puente Antiguo_ listed into Havana’s harbor without Darcy. “The normal course of events is that captives are ransomed within a few days. It is an efficient process, if upsetting.” Her voice was cool and calm. Jane paled: her only really transportable valuables were sown inside Darcy’s skirt. Her Quaker father had left her a modest annual income, but it came from her brother. Edward could not advance her a large sum all the way in Cuba. How could she ransom Darcy without the implements? “If you need monetary assistance,” Maria began delicately.

“I will consult Ian Boothby about a ransom,” she told Maria. “They are to be married in three days.” Maria nodded. “I appreciate your offer,” Jane said seriously. She departed, internally cursing her ill-luck of late. If only Thor would return!


	2. The Republic of Pirates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments & kudos!

“I will _never_ marry you,” Darcy hissed at Crossbones, when he returned later. “Never! I’ll--I’ll walk the plank,” she said desperately.

“Walk the plank?” he said incredulously, tilting his dark head at her. He began to laugh. “To think I was a little disappointed to find you in that trunk instead of silver,” he said, smirking. “Eat.” He’d brought her food in this little room. She’d been trapped there; she knew the other captives were being held below and it had puzzled her that she was being treated differently, but now she realized it was because he had ill-intent. Or worse ill-intent.

“I demand to see the captain of this ship!” Darcy said. “There are rules governing pirates’ conduct, aren’t there? Let me speak to the captain.”

“You want to speak to the captain?” he said, smiling.

“Yes,” Darcy said firmly.

“Fine. Someone will take you see the captain,” he said. He left her with the food. Darcy’s stomach growled traitorously. She was hungry.

 

When the extraordinarily tall pirate with the scar on his chin arrived to take her to see the captain, the bowl was empty. “Come along, pet,” he drawled. “I am to take you to see the captain.”

“Who are you?” Darcy said.

“Jack Rollins, dear lady,” he said, giving her a feral grin. It would have frightened her normally, but Darcy had edged past fear into a kind of blind bravado. She was brazen to cover her inner terror.  

Rollins led her through a warren of linked rooms: storage for food, gunpowder, cabins with a handful of snoring pirates, until they arrived at a room with a small circular table. To Darcy’s surprise, one woman and several men were eating: a young man of twenty with pale blonde curls, a small woman with long brown hair and silver rings, an dreadlocked man covered in a pattern of small raised tattoos that looked like dots all over his skin, a man of thirty-five or forty with a cane leaned against his hip, and a truly fearsome-looking older man with tattooed fingers and a smashed, oddly fleshy face. Crossbones was leaning against one wall, muscular arms crossed over his chest. He smirked at Darcy. He was a lowly cur, she thought. The pirates were all slightly wild-looking. They did not seem to wear jackets, favoring dark shirtsleeves and vests with their breeches instead. Heavy boots. Darcy had never seen such tattoos, either. Everyone seemed to have them.

“I am here to see the captain,” she said, looking at the oldest, most frightening-looking man at the table. He looked like a pirate captain. There was even a white bird on his shoulder.

“Me?” he said, gesturing towards his chest. His voice was a low, distorted rumble. “You think Vanko is captain?” He began to laugh hoarsely. The bird on his shoulder rocked in imitation. “Vanko is ship’s carpenter.”

“Who is the captain?” Darcy said, surprised again. The blonde younger man looked at her, his expression confused.

“I am Pietro the rigger, “ he said slowly, his voice more softly accented, _“_ Killian is the pilot, my sister Wanda is also in charge of rigging and sails, and Killmonger is a gunner, but _he_ is the captain. Captain Rumlow.” He jerked his thumb towards the man leaning against the wall. Crossbones.

“I’m the captain,” Crossbones said. “This is my ship and my crewmates. So? There was something you wished to discuss with the captain?”

Darcy stormed out of the room. “I--I--cannot believe, all the tricks--he is the captain,” she raged incoherently to the empty air.

“You don’t want to talk to the captain, Miss Stowaway?” Crossbones called after her.

 

Jack Rollins was waiting with one of his feral grins. She stomped ahead of Rollins, swearing in a distinctly unladylike fashion, muttering that she would not be married if her life depended on it. She wouldn’t even need a plank, she’d jump and take her chances with the sea. Behind her, Jack chuckled. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, pet,” he said dryly. Darcy whirled on him.

“What?” she said, hoping it was all a terrible idea of a joke.

“It’s one of his little schemes,” Jack said. “For money. He marries the engaged women, then demands by divorce by purchase from the bridegrooms.”

“Divorce by purchase?” Darcy said, baffled. She’d never heard of a divorce-by-purchase.

“A bribe to divorce them in Nassau,” Jack explained. “Illegal, but common here. Shortage of women. If you want to be with a woman who’s already got a husband, you get the husband to divorce her by purchase, or she’ll be flogged for adultery.”

“I don’t--what?” Darcy said.

“He’s turned it on it’s head, marrying the engaged women, so the prospective husbands have to buy off a pirate to get their brides back. He won’t harm you or beat you, that might mean your husband would make more trouble for us. He’ll release you as soon as Boothby sends him money.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “So, this is just a scheme for money?”

“A grand scheme. Easy money, very little danger. You didn’t realize he was the captain?” Jack said curiously.

“What kind of a captain sleeps in those quarters?” Darcy pointed out, thinking of the small, tidy room where she had been locked for the day. It’s only distinguishing feature was a small collection of books. Jack’s expression grew ominous again.

“Pirate’s crews are equal, pet. Captain’s voted on by council. Equal share, equal rooms. We were all merchant seamen once--well, most of us. Killmonger was a slave, but escaped, and the Maximoffs' parents died after they emigrated and they ended up indentured servants on the Strucker plantation. None of us’d suffer that kind of captain or boss again. There’s no rank here, only skill. It’s a fair place.”

“Unless you’re the bride,” Darcy said sharply.

“You did stowaway,” Jack said, grinning and locking her up again.

 

Darcy sat in the tiny room and prayed that Thor’s stories of Heimdall, Asgard’s all-seeing guardian, were true. Perhaps she could still be rescued, rather than ransomed. She wanted to escape with Jane’s implements and it seemed impossible the pirates would not find them eventually. How long would it take? Weeks? Months? The thought was frightening. Also, she would not mind Thor demonstrating Mjolnir’s revenge on Crossbones.

 

***

“Maria Hill tells me that ransom demands by pirates are not uncommon now,” Jane said, kneading her hands in her lap. She had gone straight to the home of Ian Boothby and was now prying the lace from a handkerchief. Darcy would be upset, she knew. She, unlike Jane, was good at that sort of work. She could talk and sew without getting distracted or misplacing her stitchwork. Darcy made all of Jane’s pretty things, just to have something to do with her hands while Jane read or taught.

“Not uncommon now, no. A specialty of the _Hydra_ in particular,” Ian said, sipping his tea. “The governors are eager to do something about Nassau, but they say there are a thousand pirates living on the island.”

“A thousand pirates,” Jane repeated dully, feeling as though some crucial information had been withheld from her. She looked around the room, not really seeing everything. Ian kept a merchant’s house in Havana: his dry-goods storage was at street level, while he lived above, to take advantage of the cooling breezes and the views. A younger son, his wealthy English family had set him up in trade and he had prospered by importing all kinds of goods: fabric, tea, spices, anything the growing city of Havana might need. It was a rather grand villa, Jane thought. She had imagined having tea with Darcy here under happier circumstances.

“Do not fret, Jane,” Ian said, leaning over and placing a hand over hers. “Everything will be resolved happily, I promise you.”

 

He sounded right--the sentiment was appropriate, Jane thought--as she looked into Ian’s handsome face. But something about Ian rang false to Jane, the more she saw of him. He had a pleasant, easy manner, he was knowledgeable, enthusiastic even, about scientific inquiry. And yet, Jane felt, there was something absent. She was disquieted.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm making up a lot of this, but the Republic of Pirates was a real thing and pirate crews were more egalitarian than merchant and naval ships: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Republic_of_Pirates
> 
> Also, "divorce by purchase" did exist (illegally); when Anne Bonny was threatened with flogging--her husband James Bonny was a sailor and paid anti-pirate informant on New Providence--for her affair with Calico Jack Rackham, Rackham offered to pay James Bonny off in a divorce-by-purchase, but Bonny refused. So, Rackham and Anne Bonny ran off to be pirates together. I'm just doing a twist on that idea that I don't think ever existed, but seems very pirate-y.
> 
> Interestingly, there's a book I read for a history seminar years ago called "The Many-Headed Hydra" (!) by Marcus Rediker and Peter Linebaugh that argues a lot of egalitarian, revolutionary political ideas were spread by sailors, slaves, and commoners, and that landed elites and government officials were *terrified* of that: https://books.google.com/books?id=PwrovfJvlKsC&lpg=PP1&pg=PP1#v=onepage&q&f=false


	3. The Magistrate Arrives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos! This story is clipping along.

Darcy awoke to the sound of voices. She could hear people calling from another ship. Rescue, she thought, elated. Until the door swung open to reveal Wanda and Jack. “It’s time, pet,” Jack told her.

“Time for what?” Darcy said.

“The magistrate has sailed from Nassau to marry you and Crossbones. Did you want to change for your wedding? Wanda’ll give you a hand, if you like?” Jack said. They were carrying a trunk.

Darcy swore at him, but Jack merely laughed and departed. “I will help you change,” Wanda said softly. She had a gentle accent like Pietro. “There will be many people and a celebration when the fleet reaches port.”

“The fleet?” Darcy said.

“Some of the Flying Gang,” Wanda said. “All pirates in Nassau.”

“A fleet of pirates is here with a magistrate to marry me to Crossbones?” Darcy said, shocked. Wanda merely nodded as if this was expected.

“I have a dress,” Wanda said.

“Is it customary for these ceremonies for the pirate to dress the bride?” she asked archly. Wanda merely shook her head and would say nothing else. But Darcy saw Wanda’s eyes widen when she opened the trunk, as if she’d never seen the dress before. Darcy insisted on keeping on all her underclothes and petticoats on--hyper-conscious of the implements in her skirt layers, she had stuffed in a bit of Crossbones’s rough linen fabric she’d found in the room to muffle their sound--but she did let Wanda put her in the dress. It had elbow-length sleeves and a low bodice in front, and a fairly simple skirt with small panniers. It was not elaborately decorated with lace, but the chintz fabric was beautiful. A deep red with intricate floral patterns. “That is stunning,” she admitted to Wanda.

“It is imported from India for merchants’ wives,” Wanda said. Of course, Darcy thought grimly as Wande laced her in, the neckline was practically indecent. Her breasts were barely contained. Was this the pirates’ idea of a joke? Turn the captured woman into a parody of a mistress at their mockery of a wedding? She had planned to marry Ian Boothby in her best dress, made recently out of beautiful fabric he’d sent her. It had a wider skirt and a much more modest neckline with a lace shawl. Ian had written that brown was his favorite color, though she thought it did nothing for her. The pirates had either left it behind on the _Puente Antiguo_ or were going to sell it, the bastards. The thought made Darcy livid. “Shall I put up your hair?” Wanda offered, taking a silver pin from her own hair.

“Thank you,” Darcy said. She could always stab Crossbones with the pins or combs, she thought. She would not stab Wanda, if only because Wanda looked so fragile and childlike, and was being nice to her for reasons that seemed inexplicable. But Crossbones was a man who understood the ramifications of his actions and so deserved punishment.

 

Wanda led her to the upper deck hatch and Darcy breathed in the fresh air, then emerged, stunned. The Flying Gang must be vast, she realized. More than a half-dozen ships bobbed to her left. The sea was dotted with vessels flying homemade pirate flags. Turning to the widest part of the ship, her mouth dropped open. The deck was crowded with new faces. Pirates in odd clothing, including several women dressed as men, turned their gaze on her. There was a moment of tension as Wanda led her forward. Darcy, feeling that odd mixture of brazenness and terror again, spoke first. “Well, is this a ransom wedding or shall I jump straight into the sea?” she asked. The pirates nearest all laughed.

“We’d just fish you out again, love!” a voice she recognized as Jack’s called out from within the crowd. The crowd parted slightly and she realized Crossbones was standing in the middle, talking to a heavily bearded man. Like the other pirates, he had a strange appearance to Darcy: there were ribbons woven into his long, dark beard and hair, his hat cast a shadow over his eyes, and he was practically festooned with shiny weapons. She realized he’d noticed she and Wanda when he extended an arm and called out to her.

“The bride arrives!” he said. Crossbones turned, but Darcy’s eyes were on the stranger. He bowed with an impersonation of courtly gallantry. “Edward Teach, my lady, to perform the wedding,” he said, smiling wickedly.

“Blackbeard?” Darcy said, shocked.

“I am the magistrate of the Republic of Pirates,” he said solemnly, then burst into laughter. “I wish you could see your face,” he said. He laughed until she blushed and stilled her expression in embarrassment.

“Get this nonsense over with,” Darcy said to Crossbones. “So, you can send your clever ransom request, Captain.” She tried to put as much scorn into the last word as she could manage.

“She’s a spirited one,” Teach said, smirking. “The other ones cried at the altar.” He stepped aside to reveal the Crossbones symbol painted on largest mast. He cleared his throat dramatically. “Does anyone object to the marriage?” Blackbeard called out. There was a chorus of nays from the assembled pirates.

“I do,” Darcy hissed.

“Shut up, I don’t mean you,” Blackbeard whispered back. “If there are no objections, we shall proceed with the vows. These are special vows,” he said to Darcy, winking. Oh dear God, Darcy thought, as the other pirates laughed and joked around them. He began by looking at Crossbones, who was watching Darcy with an unreadable expression. “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? Wilt thou laugh at her, cheapen her, dishonor and abandon her--”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Darcy muttered. Blackbeard smirked at her, looking pleased with himself, and she stomped on his foot.

“Ow!” Blackbeard said. “I could have you arrested for an assault on an official of the republic.”

“My foot slipped,” Darcy said. She heard laughter in the crowd.

“Can we move this along, the joke is growing tiresome, Edward?” Crossbones said.

“All right, fine, fine,” Blackbeard said. He pasted on a gallant-looking smile. “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? Wilt thou love her, cherish her, honor and keep her, in sickness and health--what’s the rest of it?” He looked to the crowd for assistance.

“For all long as you both shall live?” someone called.

“Oh, right--for as long---” Blackbeard began.

“You’ve been married twelve times, Teach!” Jack yelled.

“Aye, but I weren’t sober, save for one!” Blackbeard said. At Crossbones’s look, he cleared his throat again, “for as long as you both shall live?”

“I will,” Crossbones said.

“Same for you?” Blackbeard said to Darcy. “Do you promise to love, honor, and cherish him, ‘til you’re dead?” he asked.

“I won’t,” she hissed.

“Just say the words,” Crossbones said dryly.

“Fine,” Darcy said, “I will.” There was a resounding cheer from the crowd and Crossbones slipped a ring on her finger.

“I declare them married by the authority of the Republic of Pirates!” Blackbeard said.

 

 

As soon as Teach had pronounced the words, the _Sokovia_ , a smaller, faster vessel in the pirate fleet, was dispatched to deliver ransom notes for all the captives to Havana. She didn’t understand how they weren’t instantly caught. At Darcy’s quizzical expression, Wanda said simply, “my brother is very fast. He will deliver your ransom.”

***

 

Darcy was led back to the little room while the pirates began to celebrate above. Wanda told her that they would make harbor in New Providence in a few hours. When the door shut, Darcy slumped down on the narrow bed and tried to rest. It made logical sense to rest while the pirates were distracted. She toyed with the strange ring on her finger. It was gold and patterned with stars on the outside. In the dim light, she couldn’t read the inscription on the inside. Probably stolen, she thought. She was awakened sometime later by a loud noise and looked up the ceiling. Even in the dark, she could see it trembled from the dancing of heavily booted feet. She thought she could actually smell alcohol, too, and half sat up. “Don’t trouble yourself,” Crossbones said. “The ceiling’ll hold.” She realized he was sitting in the dark a few feet opposite, a bottle to his lips.

“How reassuring, that you inquire after me,” Darcy said sardonically. It was something Jane said when someone questioned her fitness as a thinker because she was a woman. He barked out a laugh.

“Do you sharpen your tongue every morning, wife?” he asked, striking a match to light a small candle.

“Don’t light candles while you drink,” Darcy said.

“Are you afraid I’ll be burned?” he asked.

“No, I’m convinced you’re a fool who takes stupid risks, like lighting matches next to a bottle of rum,” Darcy said. She expected a furious response.

“How so?” he said, with disarming mildness.

“Has it not occurred to you that Ian Boothby may not want me for a wife now that I’ve been wedded to a--,” she struggled to find a word insulting enough.

“Pirate?” he suggested.

“Witless individual,” she corrected, “a fool who risks being stuck with me if this plan of yours backfires?” She stood and yanked the bottle from his grip. “Give me that, it’s practically an incendiary device.”

“How would you know?” he asked.

“I have only spent the last two years in the employ of the greatest scientific mind in the Americas,” Darcy said.

“Oh? Who?” he said.

“Jane Foster,” Darcy said proudly, jutting her chin forward. “I know plenty about science--why are you laughing?” He had begun to chuckle in his chair.

“The mad Quaker woman who believes she met a Norse god?” he said. “From the gazettes?”

“She did, I was there,” Darcy said stubbornly, ignoring his jibes about Jane. There had been unflattering illustrations when Jane had claimed to have met Thor. People were exceptionally rude about it. 

“What made you so certain he was a real Norse god?” Crossbones asked wryly, prying the bottle from her grip.

"And do not twist Jane's words. Thor is from another realm, he is not God, that is sacrilege. The Asgardians have merely been worshipped as gods or mistaken for angels because of their different physiologies and gifts," Darcy said.

"Gifts, huh?" Crossbones said.

“You think you are so clever, but should you meet Thor, you would be dead for kidnapping me,” she told him, snatching the candle while he was busy swigging. She went to the door and opened it. “I want you to leave now,” she said. He put the cork back in the bottle and looked at her.

“Why should I?” he asked.

“So I’ll provide you a note of marginally good character that may save you from being hanged or smashed to pieces by an Asgardian weapon one day,” she said. He titled his head to one side.

“So...I shouldn’t vex my wife?” he said, standing up and leaning into Darcy’s space. He was standing too close to be intimidating, she realized, forcing herself to glare at him and not step back instinctively.

"No," she said flatly.

“No matter how much she ignites me?” he asked, eyes locked on her face. He moved forward a tiny fraction and blew out the candle. “Goodnight,” he said, locking the door behind him.

 

 

Darcy sat on the bed and fumed. He was so...so vexing. She was still thinking about it when there was another knock. “I will stab you with a hair ornament!” she yelled, expecting it to be Crossbones.

“I have come to help you with your dress,” Wanda’s voice said from the other side of the door.

“Oh,” Darcy said, getting up and stumbling forward a little in the dark. “I'm sorry. Come in.” Wanda entered with a candle. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes bright, but other than that, she seemed unharmed by the pirates’ raucous behavior. Darcy asked anyway. “Are you all right?” she said to Wanda.

“Do you think I am some fragile thing?” Wanda said. Darcy paused, uncertain. “It is a common mistake,” Wanda said, looking gleeful. “Everyone thinks I am weak, but I am not to be underestimated.”

“Yes,” Darcy said neutrally, turning to look at Wanda as she unlaced the back of the dress, “but you do not seem like you fit in here, that is all.”

 

Wanda’s expression grew serious. “None of us fit in anywhere,” she said softly.

 

***

 

The ransom notes had been brought by messenger to the governor. Jane and Ian read the message about Darcy in horror. “Darcy has been married to a pirate?” Jane said. “Is this even legal?”

“It is a transparent attempt to steal more money from the bridegroom and against the ethos of the church,” Governor Diaz said, gesturing at Ian. “Divorce by purchase is not legal. But there is little we can do but pay, since New Providence is currently without government. Mr. Boothby, we can arrange everything. Vice Admiral Fury would like to make some plans, which may take a few weeks,” the governor said, before he was interrupted by Jane.

“A few weeks? Do you know what could happen to her in weeks?” Jane said, almost jumping out of her seat. Ian looked alarmed and placed a hand on Jane’s elbow to still her protests.

“Miss Foster and my intended are like sisters, she is new to this part of the world and quite distressed,” he said apologetically to the governor.

“We understand your distress, Miss Foster,” the man with the eyepatch said. He had been standing quietly in the corner of the room, watching them. “Very clearly. I fully intend to pursue these pirates and see them executed,” he said.

 

***

 

She knew they’d reached the harbor when she heard the sailors lay anchor. Darcy sat up in the bed, checked her Asgardian implements, and put on the dress she’d been abducted in. She couldn’t lace it, but she would be dressed if Crossbones made an appearance. She didn’t want him to surprise her in her undress. She was sitting on the bed when she heard Wanda’s voice--and the captain’s, in hushed conversation. She crept to the door to listen.

“Wanda, you know I cannot,” he was saying.

“I have seen it in dreams,” Wanda said. She sounded decisive.

“Whatever you have seen, Pietro has already sent the ransom,” Crossbones said. “I cannot just keep her because you think she would be happy in the future.”

“It is not up to you,” Wanda said sharply. “It is the fates.” Darcy heard what sounded like Wanda stomping off and then Crossbones's knock.

“You awake, wife?” he called teasingly.

“Yes,” Darcy said in her most glum voice, going back to the narrow bed. He opened the door and entered.

“Time to go,” he said, gesturing for her to get up. She moved across the room. Then he spotted her unlaced dress and the bodice underneath and made a sound. “Stop,” he said. Darcy froze and he walked up behind her. "You're unlaced."

"It's not like I have arms in my back," she said. He chuckled. He began lacing her garments with nimble fingers.

“Tricky things, women’s garments. Most of the female crew dress as men. More practical. No trouble from an unlaced dress making someone think you’ve just left an assignation, either,” he said, alarmingly close to her ear. "There." She felt his fingers slid down her clothed back. "Ready to go ashore?" he asked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not make this up--Blackbeard was the actual magistrate! 
> 
> This is the ring--it's a posy ring: https://www.britishmuseum.org/research/collection_online/collection_object_details.aspx?object=20953&ILINK%7C34484,%7CassetId=31076001&objectId=38604&partId=1
> 
> It's super difficult to find online info about very early eighteenth-century dresses, but it looks like the basic elements stayed (largely) the same for most of the century: a more fitted sleeve, a low-cut bodice with stays, and a skirt that flared at the sides, with panniers or bum rolls to give the skirt that u-shape at the hips. Later in the 1700s and if you were wildly rich, your panniers got HUGE--like, can't get through a door huge scaffolds for skirts--and you'd have tons of lace detail, silk, ribbons. That's Marie Antoinette or that season of Outlander where they're in Paris. It's like a bell jar-shaped dress with a fitted bodice and a really low-cut neckline. http://www.costumersguide.com/18c.shtml
> 
> Since I'm headcanon-ing Darcy as middle-class, the daughter of someone like a lawyer or a merchant, pre-Jane, her clothes are going to be much, much simpler. But I couldn't resist giving her a wedding dress out of this beautiful red chintz fabric. Chintz was hugely popular in the 18th century. Info on chintz: https://ateliernostalgia.wordpress.com/2017/06/01/chintz/
> 
> The pirates stole it, Crossbones was going to sell it, but went 'eh, that would look good on her, right? Somebody take her that dress.'
> 
>  


	4. Nassau

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

Darcy was surprised to discover they had not arrived in Nassau, but that the _Hydra_ was docked in a small cove. “Where are we?” she asked Crossbones. He laughed.

“You think I’d give you coordinates?” he said sardonically. “We are in the republic, that is all you need to know for the present.”  As he held her arm and they moved towards one of the smaller boats roped to the _Hydra_ , she attempted to kick at his ankle. He dodged her, laughing, and loaded her into one of the boats with himself and Wanda and they began to row. Darcy held onto her skirts carefully as the boat bobbed up and down and they made towards the shore. Once they reached the beach, there was a woman waiting for the trunks in their boat. “Give us a hand, wife, Linda’s indisposed at the moment,” Crossbones said to Darcy. The woman with the one-horse wagon was heavily pregnant. Darcy helped Wanda and Crossbones carry things to the wagon, praying her skirts were quiet.

From there, they walked with the wagon into the treeline. There was a small path cut out. It was a long walk, Darcy realized, fanning away bugs as the horse trod ahead of them. The mosquitos seemed to thrive in the shade. “You’ll need to sleep under netting here,” Crossbones told her, falling back to speak with her. “Linda can help you with anything you don’t know. She’s Killmonger’s wife.”

“Willingly?” Darcy said. He chuckled. Darcy looked up at the sky through the trees. With Jane, she had learned the stars and constellations, but she wished she’d paid better attention to Jane’s long digressions about using the stars to figure out where you were. Crossbones seemed to catch her woeful expression and read her intent.

“You’ll be fine here, but the woods are thick and swampy, don’t get any ideas about escaping. I wouldn’t want someone to have to shoot you,” Crossbones said. Darcy glared at him. “It’s only a joke, wife,” he said dryly.

“I don’t much like your jokes,” Darcy told him. She gave him a dark look, then almost stumbled when she caught her toe on a tree root. Crossbones grabbed her to keep her from falling.

 

When they finally reached a clearing, Darcy realized it was a kind of pirate hideout. Several small shacks surrounded a cooking fire. There was a tattooed elderly man sitting on one porch. Wanda waved at him. “Hello, Anton,” she called out. “Vanko’s father,” she whispered to Darcy, “he is too ill to sail.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, nodding at the man. He gestured back at her and spoke to Wanda in another language and Wanda moved over to speak to him. Crossbones gestured to Darcy to follow him into one of the little houses.

“This is my cabin,” he said. “You can stay here while we’re gone.” The cabin had a little bed, a chest, and a small table and two chairs. It was near-identical to his ship’s cabin.

“You’re leaving?” Darcy said, surprised.

“The _Hydra_ needs repairs in Nassau,” he said. “You are far too conspicuous for Nassau, wife.  Let me show you the dry food stores. Wouldn’t do for you to be hungry.”

 

Crossbones and Wanda left again, bringing back Killmonger to see Linda, Vanko to see his father, and Killian on the wagon. Darcy was sitting outside the cabin when Crossbones called in Killian for a conversation and she watched the blonde man hobble up to the house. “Let me help you,” she offered, feeling an odd pang of sympathy. Killian shook his head.

“I’m all right,” he insisted, leaning heavily on his two canes. He had not been inside for a minute when Darcy heard Crossbones tell him that he would be left behind. Killian replied in a voice too low for Darcy to hear clearly, but he sounded furious.

“Don’t get your back up, Aldrich, I want you to talk to my wife,” Crossbones said. “She’s been working for that mad Quaker woman, Jane Foster, who studies the constellations? I thought it might benefit us to hear what Foster says about navigation. You’re the damn pilot, not me.”

“Oh. And she knows that?” Killian said.

“Something of it, I’m sure, I caught her looking around on the walk up,” Crossbones said. “Find out. And Linda has some ideas about growing yams, but she needs some help making irrigation plans for after the baby is born, she wants your input.”  After Killian went to another cabin, Darcy was called back inside. Crossbones was sitting in the chair, his eyes half-closed. “Sit,” he said. Darcy sat on the bed and looked at him.

“Well?” Darcy said.

“Being on land makes me vexed and tired,” he said, yawning. “It’s too humid, there’s no air.”

“Clearly, you are half sea monster and out of your natural element,” Darcy said dryly. He laughed.

“I’m going to miss your sharp tongue in Nassau,” he said, opening his eyes. “Try not to make any trouble when you’re here. I know it will be difficult, but I’m sure Boothby is gathering his funds as we speak.” To her surprise, he reached for her left hand and thumbed at the gold ring.

“By all means, take your stolen valuables back,” Darcy said. She would be happy to be rid of it.

“The only stolen thing of value in this room is you,” he said, looking at her fingers.

Her last glimpse of Crossbones was of him being driven away on the wagon by Killian with Vanko and Killmonger. Crossbones tipped his hat at her with a smirk. It was even more strange in the shack than at sea, Darcy thought. All night long, she listened to the sounds of the frogs and crickets and Anton Vanko’s coughing. In the middle of the night she got up and paced the cabin. When she circled the end of the bed, she realized there was a loose floorboard. It gave her an idea. She pried it up gently, then removed the Asgardian implements from her skirts. Wrapping them securely in Crossbones’ bit of fabric, she put them in the dirt under the floor.

 

***

 

In the morning, Darcy woke up under the mosquito netting to the sunlight streaming into the cabin’s sole window. She rose and went outside. Linda and Killian were already around the fire, discussing irrigation methods and the best way to gather water for her small plot of vegetables. Darcy came to sit with them and he passed her a plate of gruel. They were assuming they’d start work on it when the pirates returned. As she ate, she looked around curiously. “How long will they be in Nassau?” Darcy asked, wondering how long she’d need to stay in this remote place.

“Several weeks,” Linda said. Darcy’s heart sank. What was she supposed to do for several weeks?

“Can I help you?” she asked. “With your irrigation?”

“You want to help us with irrigation?” Linda said.

“I like to have something to do,” Darcy said. “I can sew and play piano and do general tasks.” Linda snorted.

“Do you see a piano?” she asked wryly. From his porch, Anton Vanko said something in another language and Linda replied back to him. Darcy was sure they were making fun of her, so she stuck her chin out stubbornly.

“I can do things, is all I mean,” she said. “I’m used to being busy.”

“You wouldn’t mind helping us?” Killian asked.

“No,” Darcy said, honestly. She wasn’t afraid of any of the people sitting around the fire, now that her valuables were safely hidden.

 

Later that day, Killian came to talk to her about the stars. They had a long conversation and it became clear to Darcy that he was taking her seriously about Thor. He even asked her to call him Aldrich and grew more enthusiastic as they discussed inventions. They were sitting on Crossbones’ porch when he stretched out his legs gingerly. “You were injured in battle?” Darcy asked carefully.

”No,” he said. “I was sickly as a child,” he explained, “but I dreamed of a career as an inventor, not a pirate.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. That made sense to her. Aldrich seemed most animated about discovery, not money.

“My parents were poor,” he said. “But I was a promising student. So, I was encouraged to apply for university. I appealed to the famous inventor, Stark, for a scholarship--”

“The ones in New York?” Darcy said. He nodded. The Starks were a famously wealthy family--the New York branch had descended from the younger son of an earl--known for their patronage of scientists and their businesses. The current head of the family had once written a letter to Jane, saying he believed her stories about Thor, but they called him Mad Tony Stark, so it didn’t increase Jane’s credibility.

“Anyhow, I visited the elder Stark on one of his trips to London and he took one look at me and declared that I must have cheated in school, because strong minds didn’t exist in weak bodies,” Aldrich said. Darcy cringed, recognizing it from the taunts thrown at Jane, and Aldrich looked wry. “He was very drunk at the time. But it lit a fire in me to heal myself,” he said. “So I worked for years to come here, looking for a cure.”

“A cure?” Darcy said.

“Haven’t you heard the stories of the fountain of youth in a city of gold?” Aldrich said. “It’s the same reason Vanko dragged Anton here. He wants to heal his father. I was a little mad at the time--before you emigrate, you hear such stories of the new world, everything is fantastical. I ran out of money. The only people who would take me on talent were pirates.”

They began planning and working that day. With Linda pregnant and Aldrich and Anton similarly unable to do much heavy lifting, Darcy ended up being the primary person working on the irrigation project. It was hard going. It took her twice as long as Aldrich had estimated it would take Linda, if she weren’t pregnant. She struggled, she fell down, she got dirty, and used so many swear words that even Anton Vanko seemed impressed. The morning they finished, a muddy and tired Darcy looked around at the new planting beds and smiled.

 

***

“You are very distant lately,” Sharon Carter told Crossbones, running her fingers through his dark hair. They were in her private rooms above the tavern where the crew was drinking. “I’d heard talk of a good haul.” They had been in town for more than a week while they repaired the ship, sold their haul, and bought supplies. They would be here another week or two, haggling over goods and sales. All the other hostages had already been ransomed and returned by Pietro and the _Sokovia._

“A good haul and a minor setback,” Rumlow said, shrugging off her touch. “I’m tired.”

“I’d also heard someone say you’d taken another wife. Is she locked on board the _Hydra_ right now?” Sharon asked carefully, making sure there was a hint of humor in her voice.

“You know I never bring the wives to Nassau,” he said. “I just don’t know why Boothby refuses to send money right now--” his voice trailed off and he tapped his fingers on the chair arm impatiently.

“He hasn’t sent the ransom,” Sharon said, inadvertently letting her surprise show.

“I have her stashed up in the hills,” Crossbones said. “But who knows what I’ll do with her if Boothby doesn’t pay up.” Sharon’s expression behind his head had turned a little pale.

“Why not approach the lady scientist?” Sharon said. “She has been making a fuss in all the press.” She handed Brock a gazette from Havana. “Harassing the governor and Fury at all hours,” Sharon told him. “She wants her friend back.”

“Reason enough to keep my wife, as far as the crew is concerned,” Crossbones said dryly, looking at the gazette. “I appreciate the idea, Sharon,” he said.

He rose and left the room without kissing her goodbye. Sharon looked after him with a still expression, quickly wrote a note, then took the back staircase downstairs, There was someone waiting in the alley. “She is hidden in the hills. Take this to the _Integrity_ in Kingston,” she said, passing a note to a hooded figure, who nodded and departed for a ship to leave Nassau that evening.

 

***

 

“Where are you going?” Jack said to Crossbones. He usually spent a few nights with Sharon when they were in Nassau.

“I’m going to ride back,” he said, “check on things. I feel uneasy.”

“I thought we were waiting on Boothby?” Jack asked.

“He hasn’t written yet. Stay and see if a note arrives while I’m gone,” Crossbones said.

“You think she’ll lead Aldrich into mutiny?” Jack said wryly. “Or does she just have you turned around?”

“What?” Crossbones said sharply.

“You didn’t worry so much about Miss Cleeves of Boston,” Jack said. That had been his last wife, happily ransomed back to a blacksmith in less than a fortnight.

“She had a face like rat,” Vanko muttered. “This one is young and pretty. He is crossed.” Vanko began to chuckle rawly at his own joke.

“Crossbones is crossed,” Pietro repeated, laughing. Wanda gave the captain a significant look. She had seen the note from Boothby arriving several days ago. Crossbones departed and Jack looked after him quizzically.

"Is he going to buy a horse? He doesn't even like horses," Jack said.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would have NEVER occurred to me to write a pirate AU and now I can't stop coming up with ideas for this one. Weird!


	5. Sugar-Apples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

Linda looked up from the fire in surprise when she heard hoofbeats on the trail. “Someone’s coming,” she said to Aldrich. She ran into the cottage for her pistol and had it aimed when the rider came into view, as Aldrich and Anton made for Vanko’s muskets more slowly. “Captain Rumlow?” she said, surprised.

“Is everything all right?” he said, steadying the horse. He had ridden the fifteen miles from Nassau. “Where is she?” he asked, dismounting and tying the horse to a tree.

“Gathering mangoes,” Aldrich said, easing himself down slowly. They’d grafted a few trees behind the houses from stolen stock. Rumlow frowned.

“Alone?” he said. “It’s near dark.”

“She likes to stay busy,” Linda said dryly, relaxing. Crossbones tied up his horse and then stopped.

“What is in my window?” he asked.

“A shade,” Linda said. “Your wife made improvements.”

“She helped with the irrigation,” Aldrich said. Anton said something in Russian. “And she taught Anton some colorful language,” Aldrich added.

“Yeah?” Crossbones said, his eyes locked on the movement he’d glimpsed behind the houses. Something white. “I’ll be back,” he said, stopping to look at the yam bed speculatively and then moving forward.

 

Crossbones stepped into small clearing behind the houses, where the mango trees were. Darcy had her back to him. She was humming to herself and stashing ripe mangoes in her skirt. The white he’d seen was her underskirts. “You made improvements to my house?” he said. She jumped when he spoke. Two of the mangoes rolled out of her skirts and landed at his feet. He bent to pick them up.

“What are you doing here?” she said, looking stunned. “Have I been ransomed?” she asked. Her voice had gone up a little joyfully at the end of the question.

“No, we’re still waiting,” he said, looking up at her. “Should be soon.” He repeated the first question. “You made improvements?”

“Just the one,” Darcy said.

“Give me those,” he said, gesturing to her mangos. She’d gathered enough for everyone to have two. “I’ll take them, you go inside, we need to talk.”

“Make sure Linda eats hers,” Darcy said, as they walked back. “Jane says fruit is not harmful to pregnant ladies, no matter what George Humphreys says in that terrible book.”

 

***

 

Crossbones was behavingly very oddly, Darcy thought. First he’d asked her all kinds of questions about the work she’d done and what she’d told Aldrich. Then they’d lapsed into a strange silence. He’d insisted the two of them sit in his cabin while they ate, instead of outside with everyone else, though she was sure that the other three could hear anything. Now he was drinking rum and staring at her as if looking for a flaw. He had his feet up on his trunk and was glaring at her as he cut mangoes with a fearsome knife. It might be that she was grimy and dirty, Darcy realized. Could he see that in the candlelight? It wasn’t as if he was especially clean, either. “How long have you known Boothby?” he asked suddenly, cutting away the mango’s flesh.

“We have been corresponding for half a year,” Darcy said.

“But when did you meet?” he asked.

“We--we have not met,” Darcy said. “But he has met Jane and she reports that he is as described and was honest in his letters.”

“Damn and blast,” Crossbones said suddenly, removing his feet from the trunk. “You have never met!” He set the mango pieces on the table with a thud.

“So?” Darcy said, confused. He didn’t answer, stomping out into the dark. She watched as he disappeared down the trail. “Where is he going?”

“To the shore, in all likelihood,” Aldrich said. “He likes to complain that he cannot breathe in the interior of the trees.”

 

He stomped back in once Darcy had gone to bed and--cursing vividly--strung up a hammock to sleep on the porch. It was exceedingly strange and made Darcy fear that something had gone wrong with the ransom. What if the message had gone astray? She found him in the morning, shirtless, splitting wood for the fire. The sight his bare back and tattooed arms left her momentarily tongue-tied. “What?” Crossbones said, turning to reveal a muscular chest.

“Is there something you aren’t telling me? A problem with the ransom?” Darcy asked.

“No, of course not,” he said. “Get back, you could be injured.”

 

He was like that for two days: surly, brooding, difficult to be around. She sassed him back at every opportunity, trying to conjure up some of the sardonic persona from the _Hydra,_ to no avail. Maybe he _was_ troubled by the air and half sea monster. She expressed it to him one night and he cursed her elaborately as troublesome creature, which made her laugh and increased his bad humor. Darcy could see that even Linda’s patience was wearing thin. One afternoon, Aldrich had been telling her about sugar-apples, a Bahamian fruit, when Crossbones looked over. “I’ll take you to find them,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  
***

 

Sugar-apples were odd-looking, Darcy thought. Bumpy and pale green. She wondered who’d thought to call them apples? But the flesh was very sweet and soft, almost creamy. They split open easily when ripe and you pried the creamy interior out, separating the seeds from the flesh. It tasted like custard. They’d treked into the trees until he spotted some. She was leaning against a tree, eating a sugar-apple that Crossbones had cut down for her, when she met his eyes. He immediately looked away. “You are not eating one?” she asked. It was very warm and she could feel the sweat dripping down her back, which made the sweet fruit more deliciously cool.

“I am not fond of them,” he said. “Too much sweetness.”

“There is no such thing, sea creature!” she said, laughing. She’d taken another bite when she looked up at him again. He was staring. “You stare like a man looking for a flaw,” she told him.

“I have yet to find one,” he said and Darcy raised an eyebrow.

“I won’t be the subject of your sardonic jokes, Captain,” she said, slightly relieved that he was acting like himself again. The staring was unnerving her. He stepped closer, pushing damp strands of hair off her face. “None of your jibes,” Darcy told him, making a face. He didn’t chuckle as she’d expected.

“I don’t joke, unless it’s called for,” he said, expression almost grim. Darcy looked down, uncertain of what was happening. He inhaled a little and she watched his chest rise as he swallowed. When she looked up at him, his eyes were locked on her face. “I have a dilemma,” he said.

“A serious one?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ve never wanted to kiss one of my wives before.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sugar apples are real: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sugar-apple


	6. Modest Proposals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!!!

In Havana, Jane fretted. She could not concentrate on her teaching and the running of the school with Darcy still missing. She had written to her brother Edward for assistance, but it would take time for her letter to arrive.  Jane was pacing her office when there was a knock at the door. “Enter,” she said crisply. Ian Boothby emerged from behind the door. “Is there news?” Jane said.

“News of a certain kind, Miss Foster,” he said, swallowing. “There is something I want to tell you.”

“Is she dead?” Jane said, horrified. She sank down into one of the chairs in front of her desk.

“No, no,” Ian said, joining her and taking her hand. “Do not be distressed. It is just--I have come to a realization over these weeks.”

“A realization?” Jane said, frowning. Ian was looking at her strangely. He patted her hand lightly and his Adam's apple bobbed nervously. He couldn't meet her eyes. Instead, he seemed to focus on a point over Jane's shoulder. She looked. It was the window that faced the school's small courtyard. Outside, a line of students, dressed in the school's plain, almost severe uniforms, passed by in a single file line.

"Mr. Boothby," Jane began, "what is the matter?" Ian's eyes shifted back to her face and he let out a shuddering breath. Then he leaned forward.

“It’s you I love, dearest Jane. Your lively mind, your strong will, those are the qualities I want in the mother of my children, in their education and upbringing--”

“What?” Jane said.

“I want to marry you, not Miss Lewis,” he said. “I’m convinced we would be happier together.” 

 

***

 

For a moment, Darcy thought he was joking again, but Crossbones leaned forward and kissed her gently. It was the lightest of touches: the skin of his lips was drier and rougher than her own, still sticky with sugar apples. She felt his mouth briefly and it was gone. Darcy was so stunned that she didn’t move and it was all over in a moment. Something of her surprise must’ve shown on her face, because he shrank back, blinking and looking perturbed. “Let’s go,” he said, turning back towards the cabins. Gripping a few of the sugar apples, she followed him, not eager to be lost. He kept himself ahead of her purposefully, she realized, but she caught him slowing down when she lagged behind. The lines of his back were tense. 

She had an instinctively wicked urge to yell that was hardly a kiss, but Darcy hadn’t been kissed since she was five. Her mother had caught her kissing Benjamin Reynolds behind the house and spanked Darcy for unladylike behavior. Thus far, none of the men she’d know had been as daring as Ben Reynolds. Of course, Ben had turned out a lawyer, not a pirate. 

Crossbones was in a foul mood all evening. The next day, he snapped at her for working on some sewing for Linda outside in the sun. “You will be burned and I’ll be accused of returning you to Havana in poor condition,” Crossbones said. Aldrich and Linda looked over at him, evidently surprised at his tone.

“A little pink is hardly poor condition,” Darcy said dryly.

“You are already blistered and calloused,” he said.  “You have been digging beds and washing laundry and doing labor all these days.”

“So?” she said, meeting his gaze. The eye contact seemed to rattle him and he disappeared into the cabin, emerging with an announcement: he was going back to Nassau immediately. He seemed to expect some argumentative response, but the three figures sitting outside looked up at him, puzzled.

“Already?” Aldrich said.

“Can I send you with a list of necessary things?” Linda asked.

“You’re leaving tonight?” Darcy said, following him back inside. He grunted out a response, packing his little saddlebag of supplies without turning to face her. Darcy sniffed. “You smell like rum,” she told him.

“Have you joined a temperance society?” he asked. They were very close together in the small cabin.

“Also, it will be dark, you could be injured traveling at night,” Darcy said, sitting on his bed.

“Near dusk is not dark,” he said stubbornly. “And if I dash my brains out, you are a free widow.”

“Do I inherit your share?” she asked playfully. She was a bit flustered around him, but she hoped the sun-pink of her skin would cover it.

“Only if you turn pirate,” he grumbled.

“Oh,” Darcy said, as he swigged more rum and glared at her. She pried the bottle from his hand and took a drink. It burned a little, but had been sweetened with nutmeg. "I thought perhaps they'd marry me off to Jack?" she said teasingly. He looked at her in surprise, frowning.

“Where do you get such ideas? Why are you bedeviling me and following me about?” he said abruptly.

“Kiss me again,” she whispered.

“What are you playing at?” Crossbones said. He’d gone very quiet. There was tension in the room. She could see the slow rise of his chest as he breathed, staring at her.

“Kiss me,” she repeated. Somewhere on the walk back from the sugar-apples, she had decided she wanted to kiss him properly. It might be foolish, reckless, and wrong, but he made her feel as if she walking a line between brazenness and idiocy. It felt like standing at the edge of a far drop. Even if there was an edge of fear, he was alluring.

”If this is some trick to--” he said.

“I haven’t been kissed since I was five,” she confessed, a giggle bubbling up in her chest. She had behaved. But a small part of her had always envied the sole passionate kiss she’d witnessed between Jane and Thor on his departure. She wanted to be kissed like that. Crossbones looked at her darkly, as if he suspected a trick, then went white.

“No,” he murmured. “Not possible.”

“You’re rejecting me?” she said, only half serious. She pouted at him. Or at least, she hoped she pouted. She’d seen flirtatious women manage it; she thought she might be able to beguile him, with enough practice. She poked out her bottom lip and gave him a pleading look. He shook his head vehemently and snatched back the bottle, putting it on the table.

“No,” he repeated. But his expression changed when she touched his forearm gently, her fingers examining the tanned muscle with the light, careful touch she reserved for music. When he didn’t pull away, she curled her fingers around his arm and tugged him towards her on the bed. Those olive eyes went wide, the pupils enlarged. Darcy saw his nostrils flare gently. He moved towards her as if in a trance.

"Sit beside me?" she said. He sank down. Their knees brushed. She repeated her plea. "Kiss--" she began again, grinning, before he stopped her with an index finger across her lips. 

“Shhh,” he murmured, leaning in and tracing her mouth with his calloused thumb. “You vex me and distract me with that mouth.”

“I can think of one way to silence me,” she told him in a low voice, feeling daring and enjoying the sensation of his touch against her mouth. His eyes held hers for a long moment, then closed the distance between them. This time, the kiss wasn’t a light touch. He was insistent, rum-sweet, eager. He kissed her and she leaned against him, gripping his forearms. Her own body was trembling with a mixture of anxiety and eagerness. He moved to pull her closer. Once his arms were around her, she felt him tilt her back onto the bed. “Mmm,” she murmured, feeling his weight on top of her. It sent tingles all over her body. A guilty part of her insisted that a lady, a real lady, would protest, wiggle away, not wrap her arms around that strong back and let him grind his body against hers. His stubble raked her lips as he missed her mouth slightly. She laughed and he reached up to hold her chin. “Captain, your aim is weak,” she said, feeling almost giddy.

“No,” he whispered, smirking now, “this corner demands my attention, it mocks me daily.” He kissed the side of her mouth slowly, cupping her chin. Without really meaning to, she let out a soft whine of encouragement. He transferred his mouth to her jawline and then her neck and chest, his hands moving to the front of her dress. He pawed at her almost roughly, hands prying the fabric of her bodice down to release one nipple. She had no idea it would feel like that when he lowered his mouth. She writhed in response and he increased the pressure of his mouth and tongue against her breast.

“Ohhh,” Darcy said, raking her fingers through his hair. She was so focused on him and his attentions that she didn’t hear the door open.

“Captain,” Aldrich said dryly from the doorway where he was leaning and looking amused, “I thought we had instructions not to damage ransomed goods?”

 

 

***

 

Inside the captain’s quarters of the _Integrity_ , a man was working by lantern when someone slid through the open window. “Hello,” he said, looking up with a grin. “I didn’t know if you’d find us so quickly.” The _Integrity_ was docked in Jamaica because British naval vessels--even ones in disguise--were not welcome in the pirates’ republic.

“I can always find you, Captain Rogers,” she said, taking down her hood to reveal vividly red hair.

 


	7. At Cross-Purposes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!

“Get out,” Rumlow said, without looking at the other man. Darcy had frozen, trying to hold in her laughter.

“Yes, sir,” Aldrich said. Darcy heard the door shut again. Crossbones was still staring at her bare breast. He blinked. She stroked his hair. His eyes rolled up to her face slowly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He looked stricken. Darcy could no longer hold in her peals of laughter. She was shaking with mirth.

“Stop shrieking,” he said in a whisper, rubbing his face. “How much rum did you have?” he asked, sighing.

“That was my first rum, too!” Darcy told him.

“I need air,” he grumbled. He sat up abruptly.

“At least help me with this, my anatomy is not complying with my garments,” Darcy said, trying to stuff her errant breast back in her bodice. Laughing, she looked up at him. He was stone faced. Crossbones cleared his throat.

“This—this will not endanger you in any way,” he said.

“What?”

“You cannot get pregnant from anything we’ve done,” he said slowly. “If you are ignorant of the mechanics.” Darcy laughed even more.

“Do you believe I could work for Jane Foster and be ignorant of the means of reproduction?” Darcy asked.

“Oh,” he said, sounding relieved, “but you have never?”

“It is possible to understand something without having done it yourself. I am aware of cannibalism, but I have never partaken,” Darcy joked. He frowned.

“I need air,” he repeated. He fled the cabin. She sat up, looked around, and shook with giggles. Then she reached down and wiggled her bodice again. 

 

***

 

“Are you suggesting we leave Darcy?” Jane said to Ian. “Married to a pirate or murdered?” She was so shocked at his declaration of love, she knew she’d gone white. The shock was quickly replaced by anger. She felt a rush of blood between her ears and the edges of her vision went red as she looked at Ian Boothby’s placid face. She wanted to smash it in suddenly. Her hands clenched in her lap. Ian merely smiled at her. He must be mistaking her flush of hostility for a demure blush. Or he thought she was flattered!

“No, no, of course not. Once Miss Lewis has been returned, I will find her a suitable husband for someone who has been in her situation, though that will necessarily mean she moves out of your circle. Although I hear the youngest Strucker is by no means particular and in want of a wife,” he mused out loud. Something about his smug tone made Jane even more furious. She did the first thing that came to mind. She seized the parasol on her desk and hit him with it.

“Miss Foster!” he yelled.

“Get out! Get out of my office! How dare you come here and propose marriage to me at this moment while insulting my friend,” Jane said. She hit him again with a thwack and he scrambled to his feet.

"You are rejecting my proposal?" he said, sounding surprised.

"You are a rat!" Jane yelled. "I would never marry you!" He made a strangled sound.

"You would break my heart?" he said.

"As if you are currently so blessed," she spat out. "Only a heartless man would do that to his fiancee!"

 

Ian fled the school and Jane departed in the opposite direction. Jane marched until she reached a graceful mansion. She knocked and was let in by a ladies maid. The brunette woman on the settee looked up at her as if the unexpected arrival of an enraged Jane Foster was a regular occurrence. “I need money,” Jane said, without preamble. “Ian Boothby has abandoned my friend.” Maria Hill nodded as if this wasn’t surprising. “I will go to Nassau myself and I will repay you for your loan.” She could sell the Asgardian tools later to pay back Maria.

“You will need an escort who has been to Nassau,” Maria said. “I have an idea of where you should go.”

 

***

 

At the shoreline, Crossbones cursed vividly. He cursed the thinness of the walls, Aldrich’s interference, his own stupidity in not latching the cabin door. Of course, Aldrich was right, which made it more frustrating. He shouldn’t have touched her. He had to leave. He would go mad with her here, so temptingly close. She was like ripe fruit. But the idea of leaving her behind made him feel sick. What if something happened to her? She was too inclined to wear herself down. She needed minding. Besides, she was his wife. Legally-speaking. He turned back to the trail.

 

“I’m responsible for you,” he said, abruptly, when he walked into the cabin. She was sitting on his bed, still fiddling with her clothes.

“You are?” she said, frowning. Her expression was somewhere between wry and skeptical.

“What I mean is that I want you to go with me to Nassau,” he said.

“Nassau?” she said.

“If you would like to go?” he added.

“Oh, no I’d like to stay and dig yams,” she said archly. “Of course I’ll go.”

“Good,” he said. “Your things?” He looked around the cabin.

“Oh,” she said, suddenly forlorn.

“What is it?” he said.

“Turn around,” she ordered. He complied. He heard her moving around, then a creak, and a jangle of metal.  

“What is that?” Crossbones asked.

“Something I will not give to pirates,” she said dryly. “Or husbands.”

“Do you intend to have more than one?” he said, half-turning.

 

 

The ride to Nassau took less time than Darcy had imagined it would, but she didn’t mind it terribly, not when she had an excuse to cling to him. She’d expected they were going back to the _Hydra_ , but he surprised her by suggesting an inn. “I thought you hated land?” she said.

“I want privacy,” he said. “For conversation.”

“Only conversation?” she said, giving him a look that suggested her willingness for more. He smirked.

“Don’t tempt me, wife,” he said.

 

Once they were alone in a room at the inn, she looked at him carefully. “What do you intend to do with me?” she asked. She’d caught his slip about “more than one husband.” Also, she was fairly sure something had gone wrong with the ransom. She expressed as much aloud.

“The ransom doesn’t matter,” he said, giving her a heated look.

“Doesn’t it?” Darcy asked. “You will make a terrible pirate if you do not mind your ransoms.”

“No,” he said, smiling. “I only want to know your wishes.”

“My wishes?” she said.

“Do you wish to stay with me or go back to Havana with your friend?” he said.

“So, Ian has jilted me? I suspected as much,” she said.

“He’s a fool,” Crossbones said. “I would like to keep you.”

“Just for your amusement? Or will this force you to change your marrying ways and keep to one wife?” she asked. She wasn’t sure if their marriage was actually legal. How could a marriage like that be legal?

“You tease me,” he said, walking over and placing his hands on her shoulders gently. “You have been teasing me since you popped out of that trunk,” he said.

“I took a swing at you!” Darcy said.

“I didn’t mind,” he said.

“I meant it, that swing,” she said.

“I would expect no less,” he said, reaching up to stroke her cheek. “But I want you to choose, not be forced to stay.” She smiled up at him, leaning forward to place her fingers around his shoulders, and kissed him lightly. He pressed back, raking his teeth against her mouth hungrily. When they broke apart, he smiled. “You want to stay with me?” he asked.

“I want--I think I want to be married to you,” she said. “But I need to see Jane. I have to see her once at least to return something.”

“All right,” he said, beaming. His fingers were edging towards the laces on her bodice.

“There’s something else,” Darcy said, looking more nervous.

“What?” he said.

“Will you always be a pirate?” she asked.

 

***

 

Jane walked into the tavern in a rough part of Havana. It was sparsely populated during the day. She swallowed, looked down at card in her hand and called out. “James Buchanan Barnes?” she said.  A man lifted his cheek from the nearest table and looked at her. Jane marched over. “You once sailed on the _Hydra?”_ she asked, repeating his name. The man’s blue eyes were glassy, but Jane saw his flinch of recognition.

“Who sent you?” he asked.

“Maria Hill,” she said.

“And why would she send a lady like you to me?” he said, shaking his head so that his long hair was pushed out of his eyes.

“I need to ransom my friend from Crossbones,” Jane said. “You are going to accompany me to Nassau.”

 


	8. A Sea of Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!

Natasha Romanoff listened quietly, hidden behind a door, as Captain Rogers ordered the crew of the  _ Integrity  _ to raise anchor and prepare to leave Kingston.  “Gentlemen,” he said, “Admiral Fury has tasked us. We shall pursue the  _ Hydra,  _ make an example of Nassau’s republic of pirates, and bring in Crossbones and Rollins. We have intelligence on their whereabouts. Sturdy intelligence.” Romanoff heard the murmurs of  _ traitors  _ within the crew. 

“Will they be pardoned, Cap?” a voice called. Romanoff recognized Sam Wilson.

“No quarter and no pardon, Sam,” Rogers said. There was a cheer. It did not surprise the woman listening. The pirates were especially loathed by regular sailors who had suffered under the naval system but remained loyal to the crown. The pardoning of pirates who’d raided naval ships was a particularly sore point. When Rogers returned to the room, he looked at her. “Disapprove of the captain’s orders?” he asked, catching her expression. Natasha shrugged fluidly.

“I am unfit to command any vessel named for a virtue,” she said slyly. “I make my compromises.”

“I am made to understand that they have their own special virtue,” Rogers said, giving her his own sly smile. “The Admiral sends you places I dare not go,” he said to the redhead. She walked over to him.

“With more frequency than I might prefer,” she said, leaning up to brush her mouth against his cheek. “Goodnight, Cap,” she said, turning to move towards the window. 

“Where is he sending you now?” he asked.

“We captured a fast schooner from some of Rackham’s associates. Now it is mine,” she said, smiling enigmatically.

“The  _ Compromise?”  _ he asked.

“Far too dull. The  _ Black Widow _ , of course,” she said, slipping out the window. He stood for a moment, listen to the quiet sound of her oars as she rowed away. It was a continual mystery how she managed to land perfectly without looking.

“A mystery and riddle,” he said out loud, when Sam Wilson entered the room.

“Natasha?” Sam said.

“How’d you know?”

“Your sturdy intelligence tends to be red,” Sam told his captain. 

“A pleasing and rare hue,” Steve said. “Fury’s given her the  _ Black Widow.” _

 

***

 

“You want me to give up the sea?” Crossbones said, looking at his wife intently. Her gaze wavered. He thought he saw hesitancy in those eyes. Sea blue. Of course they were sea blue, he thought. She had bewitched him. 

“Would you?” she whispered, nibbling at that lush mouth with what seemed like worry. Lines of dismay appeared between her eyebrows. He stroked them with his thumb and her eyes widened in surprise.

“Do you trust me?” he said.

“Somewhat,” she said, regaining some of her former sauciness. “A little,” she added.

“And you ask me to give up my life, my position, everything, for you?” he said, trying to hold her gaze. “Will you make a farmer of me? A schoolteacher? Starch me until I’m presentable and civilized?”

“No,” she said, sliding her hands inside his half-unbuttoned collar. He leaned into the touch of her hands, swallowing. “I like you half-civilized. But I want to keep you with me,” she told him.

“I want to keep you, you want to keep me?” he said. 

“Mmm,” she said, nodding. “An impasse. What do we do?” Her gaze lingered on his neck.

“I have a question,” he said, cupping her jaw and tracing her lower lip slowly. She looked back at his face. 

“Yes?” she said, mouth brushing against his fingers.

“What will you give me if I give up the sea?” he asked. 

“You are willing to abandon it?” she asked.

“I’m tempted,” he said, smirking slowly. “But I would not trade one harsh mistress for another.” He pulled her closer.

 

***

“We must find a captain to sail us to the republic,” Barnes told the schoolteacher as they left the tavern, headed for the harbor. “It is not an insignificant matter.”

“So?” she said. “I have capital--”

“Lower your voice,” he instructed.

“Who can we ask?” the teacher said. “I will go--”

“You cannot just ask, you must persuade,” he told her. “No naval ship can take us, as regular folk. And I have enemies.”

“You don’t say,” she said, eyeing his metal arm.

“You are very rude for a lady teacher,” he told her. Then his face grew serious. “There is one person we can ask.” He hesitated. “He despises me, but he will be interested in your scientific discoveries.”

“Do you owe him money?” Jane asked as they walked.

“No,” Barnes said.

“No?”

“I killed his father.”

  
  



	9. A Singular Crew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos on this one! If you need a little shipboard ambiance, this is fun: https://weather.ambient-mixer.com/old-ship-in-a-storm

She and Barnes had walked down to the harbor and entered one of the buildings there. Jane thought it was unusually large and full of shipbuilding equipment. “We are just walking in?” Jane said, as she followed Barnes through a hallway and into a large room where the hull of a half-built ship was visible. A blonde man looked up and nodded at them in recognition. Barnes nodded back and cleared his throat awkwardly. There was another man working with his back to them. At the sound of their footsteps and Barnes’ throat clearing, he called out, “Jarvis, who is in my building?”

“James Buchanan Barnes, sir,” the blonde man said in a crisp accent.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” the man repeated, not turning back.

“And a woman of indeterminate origin,” the Jarvis man said.

“Jane Foster,” Jane said.

“Jane Foster,” the man said, turning and looking curiously at her. He scanned Jane up and down. He had a half-beard and curious, lively eyes. “The lady scientist? I’m an admirer of you.”   
“Yes,” Jane said. “Thank you. I need your help.”

“You need my help?” he repeated.

“My friend and assistant had been kidnapped and is being held by the  _ Hydra.  _ I need a ship to Nassau,” Jane said. “I aim to get her back.” 

“So,” the man said with surprising archness, “you want my help?” Jane nodded. “Where does Barnes come in?” He’d turned his gaze to Barnes. Barnes was avoiding his eyes, Jane realized.

“He is to help me negotiate, by recommendation of Maria Hill,” Jane explained.

“Bullshit,” the man said, “you cannot trust Barnes.” Barnes shifted, evidently in discomfort. “He is a pirate, a thief, and a murderer. He will leave you dead.”

“I will not,” Barnes said quietly. “I’ve changed.”

“He’s changed,” the man said bitterly. “But my father and mother are still dead. They’re never coming back. Miss Foster, my apologies, I cannot help you--”

“I’m sorry,” Barnes whispered. There was something wild and desperate in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, more loudly. The man ignored him. “Tony Stark!” Barnes yelled, sounding panicky, “don’t punish her to hurt  _ me.”  _

“You are that Tony Stark? You once wrote me a letter,” Jane said, astounded.

“I did,” he said.

“It was a fine letter, full of intelligence and daring,” Jane said. There was a long moment of silence. Stark stopped and set down the tool he was holding with a clang. He sighed.

“All right,” he said, not looking at them. “I’ll help her. Jane Foster, what do you need?”

“A ship,” Jane said. 

“Doesn’t a ship need a crew?” Stark said. “My ship, my crew.”

“Fine,” Jane said. She looked at Barnes. 

“Fine,” Barnes echoed.

 

That night, Jane found herself on a ship with James Barnes, the man whose parents’ he’d murdered, and several others: Jarvis, the blonde man; a former captain named Rhodey who had suffered a serious injury to his legs, but was evidently Stark’s closest friend, and another man called Barton. Barton carried an impressive set of swords. They were waiting on a final crewmember. “Where is she?” Barnes asked, as they sat at anchor. “Why are we waiting?”

“Nervous about being seen, pirate?” Stark said.

“She’ll be here,” Barton said. “You nervous about seeing her, Barnes?” Barton winked at Jane. “They have a history, your friend and Natasha,” he told her.

“Be quiet,” Barnes said, standing up. He walked to the other end of the deck, looking gloomy. They watched him go. The ship creaked in the breezes but was otherwise quiet at anchor. What a strange life there must be at sea, Jane thought.

“So, Jane Foster, tell me about the Norse God,” Stark said suddenly, expression mirthful.

“He is not, technically-speaking, a god,” Jane said, feeling herself blush under Stark’s gaze. The man was just so  _ knowing.  _ He had, however, impressed her with his knowledge of scientific concepts. He was, it transpired, a shipbuilder, engineer, and gentleman scientist with a wide range of interests, plus, a large family fortune. The  _ Hydra  _ committed piracy upon Stark’s father’s ship as it traveled between New York and the Carribbean. 

“Just tall and--what was it the papers said, Rhodey?” he asked his friend.

“A majestic and powerfully built man,” Rhodey supplied.

“He was indeed,” Jane said. “And I trust he remains so.” She made sure that her gaze met their eyes unwaveringly.

“Planning on seeing him again?” Barton asked wryly.

 

They were still joking with Jane when a shadow fell over them. “Gentlemen,” the woman said, removing her hood. “Jane Foster, I presume?” She lowered her hood and Jane’s gaze was arrested by a shock of red hair.

“Yes,” Jane said.

“Miss Romanoff is a person of many talents,” Stark supplied.

“I am,” the other woman said. There was a faint creak of wood and Barnes stepped out from the shadows.

“Natalya,” he said, voice full of emotion.

“Yasha,” she said, more coolly.

  
  
  
  


***

“Do you think I would be an unfeeling wife?” Darcy asked Crossbones teasingly. “I am insulted.”

“Not unfeeling,” he said. “Only too conscious of your power.” She laughed and decided to test his theory by moving away, stepping back from him. He grabbed for her arm playfully.

“Where are you going?” he said, hand sliding down her bare skin. She shivered. He made to pull her back in close, but she resisted.

“What if I wanted to go to sea with you?” Darcy said.

“Are you of two minds about every little thing?” he said. She pretended to look thoughtful.

“Who says I wouldn’t take to piracy?” she said.

“You might. You are an excellent smuggler,” he said. She didn’t expect him to grab her skirts.

“Ahh,” she shrieked, when she felt his hands. “You cannot have those, they aren’t mine to give.”

“They?” he said. “I’m searching for something singular.” 


End file.
